


Zom-bee Mine

by a_dusky_gold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Angst, Castiel Feels, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel is a Sweetheart, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Dorks in Love, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Castiel, Insecure Dean Winchester, Insecurity, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, Plushies, Reunions, Teen Years, plush toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:09:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dusky_gold/pseuds/a_dusky_gold
Summary: Gabriel's careless gift becomes the promise of a lifetime.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noxlee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/gifts).



> For [ Noxlee ](https://nox-lee.tumblr.com/), for the ProfoundNet's Halloween Exchange! I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it <3 
> 
> Unbeta'd; any and all mistakes are mine.

**Chapter 1 - Beginnings**

The plush is a gift from Gabriel. It’s not very big, just a tiny little plush toy that’s the size of a knuckled-up fist that the teenager wins at one of those big, flashy arcade machines with the robot arm thingies. It looks frazzled and sad as he fishes it out.

But for two-year old Castiel with no friends or family to look out for him, it feels like the best gift ever. He grabs it with two impossibly small hands and hugs it to his chest. The yellow of the bee’s body may already be fading, but it’s soft against his skin. The antenna on top are droopy and Castiel smiles a big, gummy smile at how they nudge at his chin when he holds it close. 

“Fank you, Gabe,” he mutters.

Gabriel looks down at him, a strange expression on his face, and then just grunts. “Yeah, kiddo,” he grumbles. “You’re welcome.” He drops a hand to the dark hair and ruffles it lightly. 

Castiel leans into his touch, nuzzling against him. Gabriel snatches his hand back. His grip is both gentle and firm as he pushes the kid away, and Castiel stumbles, holding on to the bee as he tries to straighten himself. 

“You gonna give your friend a name?” Gabriel asks gruffly. 

Castiel bites his lower lip, considering it. “She not an it,” he protests. 

“A she, eh?” 

Castiel nods emphatically. “Mama like bees,” he says. “Gabe, mommy?” he peers up hopefully, small fingers rubbing the space between the bee’s antenna.

Gabriel can only swallow hard and shake his head. “She’s gone, kid,” he says. He pauses, seeing Castiel’s fallen face, and then goes down on a knee, pulling the toddler close. “She’s… this bee can be your mama now, kay?” 

Dark brows scrunch up in confusion. Castiel’s eyes swing between the bee plushy in his arms and then to Gabriel and back to the bee again as he pauses. 

“Bee mama?” he says. 

“Yeah.” Gabriel nods. “Your mom couldn’t be here, so she sent this to ya. Well, she asked me to geddit for you,” he gestures at the arcade machine behind him, “And I did.” 

Wide blue eyes glisten with tears as Castiel laughs happily. “Mama said to?” he asks shyly. “Where she?” 

Gabriel points at the plushy. “In that.” 

“In this?” 

“Whenever you feel lonely or sad, look at this thing and imagine your mom’s voice from it, okay?” 

“Kay.” Castiel kisses one antenna, and then looks up at Gabriel again. “Is Mama ghostie?” 

Gabriel’s bark of laughter is bitter. “Not exactly.” 

“Then how she speak in this?” he holds up the bee and inspects it carefully, as though his mother is stuck inside. He pulls at the bottom, trying to tear the middle apart, like he can find the dead remains of his mother and then sew it back together. 

Gabriel hastily puts his hands over the kid’s, stopping him and shaking his head. “She’s gone, kiddo,” he whispers. 

“Gone?” 

“She’s a… a zombie!” Gabriel tickles the kid’s chin and Castiel's frown disappears into the sound of a bubbling giggle. “Gone, but still here!” He pats the bee’s head. “Zom-bee!” 

“Zom-Bee,” Castiel says slowly. He looks down at the plushy and then kisses it again, whispering into its head. “Zom-bee.” 

Gabriel sighs and pats his cheek before he gets to his feet. He holds out a hand to the kid and Castiel takes it, still clutching at the plushy with one hand as they walk back to where the rest of their foster siblings are. 

“Zom-bee,” he babbles. “My zom-bee.” 

A week later, Gabriel vanishes, and the only friend Castiel has for a long, long time after is his Zom-bee plushy. 

*-*-*

Castiel saves Dean when he’s seventeen. 

He’s absently combing through his battered copy of  _ The Lord of the Rings _ in his room when he hears the sounds of fighting coming up from the hall. With a sigh, he closes the book and stalks out, only to see a tall boy in a leather jacket punch Uriel’s face. 

“You shut your goddamned trap,” the boy snarls. 

Uriel spits into his face. “We got no room for fags like you here.” 

The boy rolls his eyes. “You homophobes need new material,” he quips. “Get over yourself already, it’s the twenty-first goddamned century.” 

“Why you little-” Uriel raises his hand, knuckled into a fist to punch the boy. 

Castiel steps in, grabbing Uriel’s hand and twisting it behind his back. “That’s enough,” he growls. “Uriel, take your shit elsewhere. Who takes what up their ass is nobody’s business but their own, so go be unpleasant somewhere we can’t see you.” 

He lets go of the younger boy and Uriel whirls around with a scowl. “Why you defending him, Castiel?” he snaps. “You a fag too? You spread your legs for dick too?” 

“You seem very interested in what my dick does for a straight guy,” Castiel answers mildly. “Please just go be your disgusting self where we don’t have to deal with it.” 

“What’s goin’ on here, boys?” Joshua’s soft voice is firm behind them. 

Castiel steps away from Uriel to incline his head at the owner of their group home. Joshua offers him a quick smile before raising his eyebrow. Castiel opens his mouth to respond but the new boy cuts in almost immediately, his voice low and irritated. 

“It’s nothing,” he mutters. “Just a little disagreement.” 

“I see.” Joshua’s expression is knowing and he purses his lips, waiting. Silence falls over them, hanging heavy for a long moment, before he sighs and then nods. 

“Alright then,” he says. “Get back to your rooms and finish your homework. Sonny said he will have dinner ready in an hour.” 

Uriel huffs and stomps off to his room. Joshua shrugs and turns, walking back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

The new boy whirls to glare at Castiel. “I had it sorted,” he hisses. “I coulda handled myself.” 

“Indeed,” Castiel hums, stepping back into his room. “I’m sure you could.” 

“I didn’t need your help!” 

Castiel blinks, staring back at the boy who’s hovering in his doorway, glaring at him. His arms are crossed over his chest, and green eyes widen at him in an accusatory manner. 

“Well, I apologize for coming to your aid then,” he snaps. “Next time, I shall Uriel kick your ass six ways to Sunday.” 

“Won’t be here long enough to get kicked,” the boy mutters. “My dad’ll gemme out in less than a week.” 

Castiel snorts. “Sure.” 

Sandy-golden hair whips across a freckled face as the boy shakes his head and scowls at him. “He will. And then we can go find Sammy.” the last part is almost a mumble, as though he’s reassuring himself. 

Castiel sighs and sinks back into his bed, picking up his book. “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt,” he tells him, “It’s that humanity is a mess. You’re stuck in this system until you age out, may as well get used to it.” 

“My dad’s coming!” the boy stomps his foot. 

Castiel only shrugs and turns to his book. He doesn’t want to break the boy’s spirit; there’s a look of defiance in him that he hasn’t seen in a long, long time. He’s beautiful and deadly, and the part of Castiel that enjoys a challenge wants to pull him close and run a hand through his hair. 

Silence falls between them, stifling and heavy. Castiel can see him from the corner of his eyes, a shadow dancing at the edge of his vision, and it takes a long, pregnant moment before he snaps his book shut and faces him directly. 

“What?” he snaps. 

The boy’s eyes are drawn to the plushy sitting on top of his bed, nestled in next to his pillow. Castiel stiffens, bracing himself for a mocking comment about still sleeping with a toy, but the boy only shakes his head and smiles. 

“Zom-bee?” he asks. “Really?” 

Castiel blinks. Another moment passes, a quiet heaviness between them where Castiel can’t breathe. The boy is staring at the plushy, his gaze lingering on the band Castiel made when he was ten years old, stitching out Zom-bee’s name and tying it around her neck as a reminder that no matter where he goes, he will always have her at least. 

“I was two,” he finds himself answering defensively. A distant part of him wonders why he’s responding at all; it’s not the first time someone is mocking this, but it is the first time he’s allowing it. 

The corner of the boy’s lips turn up in a small smile. “Yeah?” he says. “And you couldn’t come up with a punnier name?” 

The chuckle comes unbidden to Castiel’s lips and he shakes his head. “My brother came up with it, actually,” he says. “Gabriel was a bit of a trickster.” 

“...was?” 

Castiel swallows. The silence falls again, loud as a gunshot between them. He shrugs, unable to say anything more, because, yes, it’s been years, yes, he was barely two years old and wouldn’t even remember Gabe’s face without the single, old photo tucked away between the crinkling yellow pages of the journal he found four years later. But it still hurts, a scar scabbed over that burns constantly beneath his skin. 

“I’m Dean,” the boy says suddenly. “Dean Winchester.” 

“Castiel,” he replies automatically. 

“Castiel,” Dean echoes. “That like a religious thing?” 

He’s surprised. “An angelic name. Castiel, Angel of Thursday.” 

“Nice to meet’cha, Cas,” Dean says. “Thanks for savin’ my ass, Mr. Guardian Angel. And thanks for introducin’ me to your little bee.” He shakes his head at the plushy and then turns around to walk out, pausing at the doorway. “Next time, don’t bother.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Castiel calls after him. 

*-*-*

Dean is fifteen and full of righteous rage at the world, as Castiel finds out much later. The Group Home for the boys is so full that there’s hardly enough space for everyone. That, of course, means that neither Sonny nor Joshua can keep an eye on all of them. They try valiantly, and they’re constantly policing bad behavior, but the little things go unnoticed. 

Dean’s backpack disappears on the second day. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who took it. Castiel quietly steals it back from Uriel and places it in Dean’s room without telling the boy. 

What he doesn’t expect is for the younger teen to storm into his room a couple hours after he finds it, expression greyer than rainy sky in winter. 

“You got my bag back.” it’s not a question but Castiel nods anyway. “Why?” Dean snaps. 

“...do you not want it back?” Castiel asks slowly. 

Dean growls but does not reply. He turns his back deliberately and stomps out, bag hanging off his shoulder.

“He’s very strange,” Castiel mutters to Zom-bee. 

She doesn’t reply. 

A week later, he comes across Uriel holding Dean down behind the school bleachers. Alastair and Dick Roman, both from Castiel’s class, are cheering him on from behind. Dean’s eye is swollen shut and his lip is purple. 

Something within Castiel snaps. He jumps into the fray and grabs Uriel, throwing him off of Dean. Given his extensive martial arts training under Sonny, it doesn’t take long before Uriel is incapacitated. 

“What the heck is going on here?!” 

Principal Azazel’s voice is oily and angry and Alastair smirks from behind his dad. Castiel sighs, letting Uriel go. In a strange parody of when they’d met, Dean stops him from saying anything, instead shaking his head at the principal. 

“Just a misunderstanding, sir,” he says. 

“Suspension,” Azazel intones. “For all you barbarians. Disturbed goddamned teens,” he mutters to himself and stalks away, Alastair and Dick following him with smirks on their faces. 

Uriel doesn’t say anything and runs after them, leaving Dean alone with Castiel. 

“You keep savin’ me, man,” Dean says suddenly, breaking the silence they so often seem to share. “Why?” 

“...I don’t like bullies.” 

“That all I am to you, then?” Dean spits. “A project? To be saved?” 

Castiel eyes him quizzically. Dean looks away, unable to meet his gaze, and it doesn’t take Castiel long to realize exactly what’s going on behind those gold-speckled green eyes. 

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved,” he says. Lord, but he knows how that feels.  

“Whatever, man.” Dean shrugs. “Not my fault if you get in trouble.” 

“Of course, Dean.” 

*-*-*

Castiel is almost surprised to realize that he has a friend, despite everything. Dean ends up in his room more often than not, usually stomping in mid-rant to tell him off for defending him. It becomes almost a game, because Dean gets into fights at least once a week and Castiel steps every time he is in the vicinity. 

It’s a completely random Thursday evening and Dean is ranting at him about defending him when it hits Castiel.

“I can take care of myself, okay?!” Dean says. “I’m not a goddamned kid.” 

“I never said you were,” Castiel raises an eyebrow. “I do not understand why you are so against the idea of someone looking out for you.” 

Dean flinches as though he’s been hit. Castiel watches as he sighs and then sinks on to the bed in front of him, hands hesitantly reaching out to pet Zom-bee’s head. 

“I just…” he looks up. “I don’t geddit man. Why you insist on putting yourself in trouble. For me.” 

Castiel smiles, soft and bitter. “Because you’re worth it,” he says honestly.  _ Because you were the first one to see Zom-bee and not laugh, _ he wants to say. 

“I’m really not,” Dean mutters. 

They’re both quiet for a long time. 

“When did you get her?” Dean finally asks. 

It takes Castiel a moment to realize that he’s talking about Zom-bee. “I told you, I was two.”

“Your… brother?” 

“Gabriel,” Castiel supplies. “In my first foster home. He… watched out for me. For as long as he could, at least.” 

“Did a bang up job of it,” Dean snarks. 

Castiel glares, but doesn’t protest the statement. The sting of abandonment is still fresh, still hurts like a scarred limb. Dean isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

“He tried,” he snaps. “After my father murdered my mother, Gabe was the only person who ever tried.” 

“Shit.” Dean rubs his face with the back of his hands. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Castiel interrupts. “It’s… it’s been a long time.” 

They’re quiet again. Castiel reaches out to thumb at one of Zom-bee’s antenna. Sometimes he wonders if he dreamed Gabe up; he can’t remember anything about him except what he found in that tattered old journal. Zom-bee’s the only real reminder that he once had someone, that someone cared enough to lie to him about his mother’s death and get him a plush toy to put him to sleep. 

That someone also abandoned him as soon as he could, so sometimes all wants Castiel wants to do is throw Zom-bee into the trashcan and set her on fire. 

“I used to have one of these.” 

Dean’s voice is so soft, Castiel almost misses it. 

“A bee plushy?” 

“Yeah… well, no, not a bee, but a car. My mom had it custom made.” Dean draws his knees close to his chest, curling into a ball. “Looked exactly like the Impala my dad drives.” 

“What happened to it?” Castiel murmurs. 

“Burned down. With the rest of my house. And my ma.” The last bit is so monotone, Castiel flinches when he hears it. 

“...I’m sorry.” 

Dean shrugs. 

There really isn’t anything to say, Castiel knows, but his chest tightens and his stomach flip-flops. Right there, lying on his bed, looking vulnerable and lost, Dean is… Dean is beautiful. Castiel’s heart hurts, and it’s such a strange sensation that he ignores it, instead pushing the plushy towards Dean. 

Green eyes fly up to meet his, startled. “Wha-” 

“Zom-bee is very comforting,” Castiel says simply. “Here.” 

He pushes the plushy into Dean’s hands, arranging his arms so that he’s hugging the bee to his chest. Dean breathes in sharply, narrowing his eyes at him in suspicion. 

“What’re you doin’, man?” he asks. 

“Just…” Castiel pulls him down with him, so that the both of them are lying together on the bed, facing one another. Zom-bee lies between them, a warm, soft, cuddly reminder that they’re not alone. “Just… it’s okay, Dean,” he whispers. “I…” 

_ You’re not alone anymore, _ he wants to say. _ I’ll watch out for you.  _

The words don’t come. Instead, all he can croak out is, “Stay.”

Dean’s expression softens. He reaches out a hand, hovering over Castiel’s hip, before they move up to Zom-bee and stroke her face instead. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, Cas.” 

It’s the first time someone’s ever given him a nickname. 

*-*-*

Dean tells him about the death of his mother and the abuse his father’s heaped upon him all these years. It’s frustrating, listening to him. Castiel knows his dad is a complete asshole, but still, Dean won’t give up on him. 

“He’s my  _ dad _ , Cas,” Dean snaps every time he tries to bring it up. “He’s gonna come gemme and then we can go find Sammy.”

It makes Castiel’s heart jump into his throat. The idea of Dean leaving makes his stomach tighten and his palms sweat. He can’t imagine losing the only friend he has, even if Dean insists that his dad will come for him. 

“Do you really want to?” he whispers. “Do you really want to go back to being your brother’s mom and dad, Dean?”

Dean glares at him. “Not like I got a choice,” he snaps back. “That’s my family, Cas. I know you don’t geddit, but I can’t just up and leave ‘em.” 

Castiel falls quiet. No, he  _ doesn’t  _ know. He was two when his dad murdered his mother and then took his own life. If he’s ever known what the word family means, it’s only through its absence.

He reaches out and pulls Zom-bee close, tucking her under his chin. 

Dean’s face softens. He reaches out a hand to touch Castiel’s face but hesitates, pulling it back the last moment. Castiel’s eyes follow the movement of his fingers as they flex, clenching and unclenching, and he swallows tightly. 

What would it feel like to have those fingers intertwined with his own? 

He pushes the thought away; just because Dean isn’t straight, it doesn’t mean he’s into him. And Dean’s friendship means far more than any sexual attraction he feels for him. He is all that Castiel has left - he’s not going to ruin the one friend he’s managed to make in spite of all the shit they’ve both been through. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Dean murmurs, as though reading his mind. “That was a shitty thing to say.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Castiel looks down at Zom-bee and smoothens one, fraying wing. There’s a thread coming out, he sees - he’s going to have to stitch her up again soon. “It’s not like I know anything about being a part of a family.” 

“No.” 

Castiel looks up, startled at the sudden hand that’s no longer hesitant as it squeezes his cheek. Green eyes, wide and gold speckled, glare into his own. 

“No,” Dean repeats, vehement and insistent. “You’re… dammit, Cas, you talk as though you’re gonna be alone forever.” 

Castiel can’t look away, can’t breathe. “I…” he stammers. “I don’t…” 

Dean leans in to rest his forehead against Castiel’s and Castiel can feel the heat of his palm as he lays it flat on his cheek. 

“I’m not leavin’ ya, man,” Dean whispers. “I want… come with me. When my dad comes to gemme and Sammy… come with me.” 

His thumb strokes soft circles against the corner of Castiel’s mouth and Castiel can barely resist the urge to let his tongue dart out and lick it. He’s dumbstruck; he can feel the jackhammer of his heart  _ thud-thud _ in his chest. 

“I… Dean, I…” he can’t form the words. 

Dean doesn’t say anything, but the expression on his face is more vulnerable and open than Castiel has ever seen it. 

“Dean.” He rolls his tongue over the name. “Dean.” 

“Cas,” he sighs. “You dork.” 

The kiss feels almost inevitable at this point. Dean’s lips are warm, moist against his own and Castiel wants to push him down and taste him. Devour him until there’s no space between them, to swallow Dean’s foolishly optimistic promise until they’re both panting into each other’s mouths. Until there’s no more secrets between them. 

He leans in, licking into his mouth, intent on doing just that, when Dean  _ oomphs  _ and pulls back. Zom-bee’s squished between them, a physical reminder that this is a bad idea and Castiel breathes in slowly, trying to calm the goosebumps rising on his skin. 

“Damn bee,” Dean sounds fond. He looks up, a shy smile curving his kiss-flushed lips. “You ain’t alone, Cas. You got her.” He hesitates and then continues, “And me. You got me.” 

“I got you,” Cas echoes. “I… got you.” 

It goes both ways, he realizes. He isn’t alone anymore, but he’ll also always,  _ always  _ come when Dean calls. 

He wonders why it fills him with as much dread as it does joy. 

*-*-*

John comes for Dean on a Sunday afternoon, four months after he wrecked his car and Dean was sent to Sonny's Home. 

Dean and Castiel are laid up in his bed, locked away in his room. It's their own little routine; by unspoken agreement, every Sunday morning is their personal time, lazy limbs wrapped around one another in bed, Zom-bee cuddled between them as they dissect Vonnegut and Tolkien and argue about the verisimilitude in  _ Die Hard.  _

Warm and cozy, Castiel can - on these mornings - forget that the world outside exists, that their time together is limited. 

Not this Sunday. And time, apparently, has caught up to them. 

"William Atherton, man," Dean's saying. "He has to be the best villain." 

"Jeremy Irons," Castiel murmurs. He leans in and nuzzles his nose against Dean's, enjoying the way the younger boy's face flushes. Every freckle stands out against the soft redness and it makes Castiel's toes curl under the blankets. 

"You're so wrong, buddy," Dean retorts. "Atherton kicked ass." 

Castiel hums, not really listening. He's about to lean in and steal a kiss when a loud, booming noise startles them both. 

"Dean? What the hell are you doing?" 

Dean reels back, pushing Castiel away and sitting up to stare at the bulking figure in the doorway. Castiel stumbles; he almost falls off the bed before he rights himself, pulling Zom-bee closer to his chest on instinct. 

"Da-dad," Dean stammers. "Wh-what're you doin' here?" 

The burly man with his salt and pepper beard glares down at him. "Came to get you, kid. Question is, what are you doing?" 

Dean's flush deepens as John Winchester's eyebrow climbs up his forehead and he stares pointedly at Castiel. 

"I- uh... I'm..." he slides off the bed. "This is Cas, dad. He's my uh... he's my friend." 

Castiel's heart sinks at the way Dean lingers over the word  _ friend _ . It hits him then - is Dean even out to his father? Would John accept his son at all? 

If the way the man is glaring at Castiel currently is any indication, he doubts it. 

"Friend, huh?" John grunts. "What's a teenage kid doing with a goddamned children's toy?" 

It's Castiel's turn to flush. For a moment, it feels like Zom-bee is burning his skin and he resists the urge to throw her on the floor. Instead, he sets her down carefully, avoiding Dean's gaze as he turns to his father. 

"It was a gift," he says, proud of the way his voice does not crack. "From my brother." 

"I see." 

Silence falls between them as John considers him for a long, heavy moment before looking at Dean. 

"Pack your bags, son," he says. "We're going to get your brother." His tone is militial and strict, not a hint of affection one could expect from a father missing his sons for months on end. 

Dean's back goes ramrod straight and he clasps his hands behind his back. "Yessir," he mutters.

"I'll be downstairs." John turns to leave. "We're headin' out in twenty. Don't make me wait." 

Castiel wants to punch him. 

"Sir, yessir." 

He follows Dean as the younger boy stalks out of Castiel's room and into his own, on the opposite end of the hallway. Dean doesn't say anything, but his hands are shoved into his pockets and eyes are stormy and Castiel knows -  _ knows  _ \- this isn't going to end well. 

"You're leaving then." 

It comes out unbidden, as he's sitting on the edge of Dean's bed, watching him stomp around the room to grab his things. There was only one backpack when Dean came here, but four months with no sign of John and Dean finally began to nest, allowing himself to collect a few odd knick-knacks that are cluttered around the room.

Castiel stares down at them, piled on the bed next to him. The ugly, misshapen little rock they'd both picked up on the beach and laughed at... the metal lid of the beer bottle Castiel had stopped Dean from drinking and instead made a necklace out of... single picture of the two of them that Sonny had insisted on taking despite both their protests. 

He clenches his fist and then looks down when something soft squishes between them. Zom-bee is sitting on his lap - he must have brought her along without realizing it. 

"I told you I would be," Dean snaps back. "I told you Dad was comin' for me." He pauses, running a hand through his hair, and then dumps the backpack on the bed. "Come with me." 

It's a whisper, a plea, and Castiel wants to answer it. 

"I... can't." 

"Dammit, Cas." 

Dean whirls away, going back to angrily throwing his clothes into his bag. 

And Castiel can't stand it, can't stand the way his chest tightens and he can't draw breath anymore, the hard line of Dean's back too much to take. 

So he leans in and wraps his arms around Dean from behind, tucking Dean's shorter head under his chin. 

"I... can't come right now, Dean," he murmurs. "Your dad doesn't know me. He's not going to just grab a random kid to bring with him." 

Dean's rigid in his grasp for a long moment before the fight sails out of him. He goes limp and then turns, burying his face in Castiel's chest. Castiel is almost startled to realize that he's shaking. 

"I know," Dean whispers. "I... Cas, I..." 

_ Don't say it,  _ Castiel thinks.  _ Please...  _ say  _ it.  _

The words are stuck in his own throat, a giant lump of emotion that blocks his breathing. 

"I know," he says. _ I love you, _ he wants to say. 

Pulling back, he palms Dean's cheek the same way the younger boy did just a few, short months and a lifetime ago. On impulse, he leans over and grabs Zom-bee off the bed and pushes her into Dean's hands. 

"Wh-what?" 

"Take her with you," Castiel says. "As a reminder. Of... this place."  _ Of me.  _

Dean looks down at her and then at him. "I can't... Cas, your brother gave you this, I can't..." 

"Please, Dean." 

Dean pulls him close and presses his lips to Castiel's in a harsh kiss. He's ruthless, expertly sliding his tongue into his mouth, leaving Castiel scrabbling for purchase as his fingers dig into his hip, the softness of Zom-bee's plush weight between them a stark contrast to the hardness of Dean's limber form. 

"I'll come back," Dean whispers. "We'll go find Sammy, and then I'm coming back for you."

Castiel huffs a laugh against his mouth. "Don't make promises you can't keep," he mumbles. 

"I will," Dean insists. "I'm not leaving you behind, Cas." 

He pulls back and brings Zom-bee up to his chest, holding her up so Castiel can see the button-eyes and the small antennae. "If only so I can give this bee back to you." 

Castiel's lips curve into a bitter smile. "Okay," he says. 

The answering smile on Dean's face is blinding and allows him to hope. For just a moment, he can believe - he can breathe - he won't be alone. Dean will be back, with Zom-bee, and they can be together. 

And then John calls again. Belief begins to waver as Dean presses one last, harsh kiss to his lips before stalking out of his room, Zom-bee tucked her his arm. 

Still, Castiel holds on tight, even as he watches Dean drive away in the Impala with his father, holding Zom-bee out for Castiel to see until they both fade into the horizon. 

Hope is all he has. 

*-*-*

For six months, Castiel holds on to the hope. He wonders each morning if this is it, this is when Dean will come and bring him home - because Dean is his home now, he's realized, and he wants to go home. 

No one comes. 

Castiel wakes up the morning of his eighteenth birthday to realize that he's a legal adult - Sonny's Home is no longer his place. 

And Dean's gone forever. 

Hope fades. 

Zom-bee's gone too, he thinks. His heart squeezes in a pang of regret and anger he allows himself to feel for a full moment. 

And then, he packs it away, along with all the other hurts he's been hiding all his life, along with the few clothes and books he's collected over his teen years. 

Castiel walks out of the first - and last home - he made for himself with another person. 

He doesn't look back.


	2. Endings

**Chapter 2 - Endings**

It takes ten years of backpacking across the country, seventeen different jobs, two online courses before Castiel realizes he's actually managed to carve a space out for himself.

He's not quite sure how he ended up here, as a children's librarian of all things, in California of all places. It's mind boggling, especially because he's had no goddamned childhood to speak of, and yet, here he is, planning out Sacramento Public Library's Annual Halloween Week Activities for Kids. There are readings and candy and even overnight pajama parties and as much as Castiel hates to admit it, there is a part of him - a very large part - that is just as excited as the kids he sees on a daily basis.

"Hey there, bestie!"

And he's made friends. It's strange, he muses as he accepts Charlie's hug, how normal his life is, after all the abuse and the drugs and the abandonment. He soaks it in, wraps his own arms around her tiny frame and breathes in the smell of her shampoo.

"Charlie," he says. "How are you?"

She doesn't answer, but holds up a hand where a diamond winks back at him.

"Jo proposed!" he exclaims. "Congratulations!"

She grins widely. "Last night," she tells him. "In the hot tub, when we were chilling... I was worried, because it's been over six weeks since I found the ring in the sock..."

"She was nervous?"

"A bit." Charlie shakes her head. "But mostly just that she wanted it to be special, and we haven't had time to ourselves with helping Sam fix up the house for his brother."

"Ah yes." Castiel hasn't met Sam yet, but he's heard all about the huge ASL instructor with an equally big heart. "When is his brother going to be here?"

"He drove up yesterday with his kids. Jo went to meet them, but I was tied up at work. Gonna have dinner with them sometime this week."

Castiel stretches his arms behind his back, feeling the muscles pop before letting go. He puts up the _Next Counter Please_ sign on his desk and walks out, wrapping an arm around Charlie's shoulder.

"She's known them since childhood, you said?" he says, steering them towards the cafe.

"Yeah." Red brows draw into a frown as she shrugs. "But they lost touch for a while... apparently, their dad was a bit of a dick and there was some kerfuffle there. Bounced around the system for a bit before settling down with Jo's old family friend."

"They were in the system?"

Charlie must hear the quiet pain in his voice because she leans up to kiss his cheek quickly. "They're good, Cas," she tells him honestly. "Sam's a giant ass nerd and I haven't met his brother yet, but if he's raisin' a kid on his own, I'm sure he's got grit."

"He's a single parent?"

"Apparently. Kindergartener, I think? Though if you ask me-"

The sound of a loud cry cuts her off. They turn to see a little girl in the middle of the cafe, sitting on top of a table and sobbing loudly.

Castiel is moving towards her before he even realizes it. It's been years since he got out of the system, but every time he sees a child by themselves, it makes his entire being go hot with anger.

"Hello." He keeps his voice gentle and soft, bending down in front of the little girl. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

Wide, teary green eyes peer out of a curtain of long, apple-hued hair. The girl sniffles and then looks up at him, her lower lip trembling.

"Da-daddy," she whimpers. "I..."

"You lost your Daddy?" he murmurs. "Did he come here with you?"

She seems even more confused than before and hides her face between her hands. Soft, hiccuping sobs rack her tiny frame, and Castiel can't take it anymore - he leans in to pat her head as tenderly as he knows how, pursing his lips in anger.

"We'll find him." Charlie's voice is soothing as she joins them. "We’ll find your Daddy, k?"

"Da-Daddy," she cries again.

Castiel opens his mouth to add his own reassurances, when the sound of a loud, angry yell interrupts them.

"Emma!"

Castiel freezes.

He’s taller now, he thinks, almost numbly. The voice has changed, deepened and broken into the bass promise that he'd heard as he'd whispered his feelings into Castiel's skin. The gangly, limbre frame has put on muscle enough to be almost unrecognizable. But the pendant that hangs from his chest is still the same weird demon face that his brother gave him one lonely Christmas night, and Castiel can see the metal cap of the beer-bottle necklace he made glint right above the demon face. And Lord, those eyes are still as green and gold speckled as they ever were.

Castiel realizes with a start that Emma's eyes are the same.

"Emma! Christ, come here you." Emma stumbles off the table and into her father’s arms. "God, I thought I'd lost you for a second there... don't ever run off in me again, do you hear?"

_Dean._

Charlie moves forward to introduce herself and Dean's cuddling Emma in his arms and still scolding and pressing kisses to her face, but all Castiel can hear is the pounding of his own blood. Why can't he breathe, he wonders, where did all the air go? Why is his chest so tight?

"...Cas?" Charlie reaches out to grab his arm. "Castiel!"

The sharp intake of breath from Dean is what breaks him out of his reverie.

"Castiel?" Dean says, his voice tight.

"Yeah!" Charlie chirps. "He's a librarian here. Cas, what a coincidence, eh? Dean, we were just talking about you... Cas, this is Sam's brother."

He looks up, finally, _finally_ meeting that old, tired gaze - still filled with the same righteous fury, now tempered with the worrying wisdom of a parent.

"Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

*-*-*

Dean comes back.

And of course he does, Castiel thinks. Because this is _Dean_ \- Dean, who's strong, tenacious and stubborn. Dean, whom Castiel never really forgot, whom Castiel never really moved on from no matter how many boys and girls he fucked.

Dean, who after even all these years, Castiel isn't sure if he loves or hates.

"Hey Cas."

"Mr. Winchester." Castiel keeps his tone stiff and formal. "How may I help you?"

"Really? That's where we at now?"

"You're a customer, Mr. Winchester," Castiel replies. "This is a library, and I'm a children's librarian. I have certain professional boundaries to maintain."

"Okay, fair enough." Dean holds up his hands. "What if we met outside the library? When you're not working and we don't have to maintain professional boundaries?"

"That would be unwise."

"C'mon man." Green eyes - Lord, they're still _so_ beautiful - widen at him in plea as Dean leans in. "It's been a decade. Can we at least talk? Catch up?"

"Catching up would imply that we had a relationship of any sort," Castiel says, spitting each word out like a thorn. "Which clearly we did not."

Dean falls silent. He shuffles his weight from his right to left foot. Castiel can feel the old crack in his heart deepen, the stitches he's patched on over the years neatly giving away to reveal the raw bleed beneath.

"Look," he sighs. "It's been... a decade, as you said. I've moved on, you've moved on. Why don't we just... let it go?"

Dean looks up and offers him a pained smile. "Because there's so much I never got to tell you," he whispers. "But uh... it's ten years too late, huh."

 _No,_ Castiel wants to say. _I want to hear everything you want to say._

What if there was more to the story than the abandonment? What if Dean did care? What if Zom-bee did mean something?

And the what ifs are such an echo of Gabriel's disappearance, Castiel shuts it down immediately.

"Yeah, Dean," he murmurs. "It's ten years too late."

The bleed in his heart scabs over and he's patching it up again, but it still _thud-thud_ throbs when Dean nods and turns back to walk away.

*-*-*

"Mista Cas!"

Castiel blinks at the sound of the soft, sweet call. He turns from setting up the candy bowl on the desk to see Emma Winchester standing in front of him. Her long, red hair is draped over her shoulder in bouncy, curled waves and she's wearing a short, purple top and blue, shimmery pants.

"Hello, Emma," he says. Emma, he thinks, Dean's _daughter_. Part of him - a very big part - wants to know - is Dean gay or bisexual? Did he adopt or surrogate? Who is her mother? Why is he single parent -

He shuts down the litany of questions as soon as they start - like always - and focuses instead on the four-year old.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good!" she chirps. "Daddy and I went trick-or-treatin'!"

She holds up her little pumpkin basket bag and Castiel's heart melts.

"Well, I have some more for you," he says. Reaching behind him, he grabs a couple of the candy bars in the bowl and drops them into her basket.

"Thank you!"

Castiel is almost surprised at the sudden way she throws her arms around his neck. He hugs her back, palming her head and she smiles at him gummily when they pull apart.

"Where's your Dad?" he asks.

"He went home," Emma says. “Said he wanted to watch _Die Hard_ tonight in his _underwear_.” She whispers the last bit like it’s a dirty word and Castiel suppresses a snort. Affection bubbles like acid in his stomach.

It's been a month since their conversation and Dean's kept his distance, but Emma is at the library almost daily and Castiel knows this is a bad idea, but he's falling anyway.

"Wait, are you here alone?"  

Red hair flies across her face as Emma shakes her head. "Unca Sam and Auntie Eileen and Jesse brought me!" she turns around to point at a giant man with long hair milling about in the crowd.

Castiel rakes in a sharp breath - this is Sam. The same Sam that Dean parented, the same Sam that meant everything to Dean back then. Part of him wants to hate the man; Castiel's pretty sure he's never come close to being half as important to Dean as Sam is. But he's mostly nervous, because _he'd_ cared about Sam back then - because Dean cared about Sam.

The stitch holding his scabbed heart together is splitting again. He wonders if he will be able to pull it back together before it frays completely.

Emma's tiny fingers twine around his hand and it soothes him as she leads him to where Sam is.

"Unca Sam!"

"Emma!" Sam lets go of the woman in his arms and pulls Emma to him, giving her a quick hug. "Who's this, Em?"

"This is Mista Cas!" she chirps. "He's a lib - libra- librian here!"

"Lib-ra-rian," Castiel corrects, splitting the syllables for her to follow.

"Lib-ra-rian," Emma repeats. "Auntie Eileen!" She signs something in ASL, almost too rapidly for Castiel to follow, and he smiles.

"Yes, Emma, I really like you too," he says.

"You know ASL?" Eileen looks at him in surprise.

Castiel shrugs. "I traveled a lot. Picked up a lot of skills on the way." He signs as he speaks and she smiles.

"That's very cool. I'm Eileen, this is my husband Sam, and our son, Jesse."

"Castiel Novak."

Sam's eyes widen and his grip is a bit too firm when he shakes Castiel's hand. "So you're Cas," he says.

Castiel tilts his head. "Yes...?"

"Emma won't stop talkin' about you," Sam says quickly.

"Neither will Dean or Charlie," Eileen adds.

"Well, don't believe everything Charlie says," Castiel says. "She's a bit..." he shrugs.

"Protective?" Sam suggests. "Excitable? Enthusiastic?"

Castiel snorts. "All of those."

"You know that's not why Dean keeps talking about you, right?" Sam's voice is quiet.

Castiel turns away, refusing to meet his eyes. Emma and Jesse have joined the rest of the kids for Halloween Story Night, he sees, running around the room to touch every pillow set up for the pajama party, and generally making a mess of themselves. This is why he loves the kids' section of the library - there is as much love and hope here as there is knowledge and information, and it always makes his heart soar.

"I don't... Dean and I..." he murmurs and then trails off. Dean and he what? There _is_ no Dean and he, he made sure of it himself.

Eileen leans up to kiss his cheek and then steps away, tactfully leaving Castiel alone with Sam as she runs after Emma and Jesse.

The awkward silence lingers between them, louder than a gunshot. Sam is the one to break it.

“Thank you,” he says.

It’s such an unexpected reaction from him, Castiel just stares.

“If wasn't until after he met you that Dean was able to come out and stand up to John."

"He...what?"

"After Sonny's... John was homophobic. When he found you and Dean together then... he nearly killed him." Sam looks at him and then glances back at where Jesse is chasing Emma around the room, both of them laughing without a care in the world. "It was enough for CPS to get us away from him, for Bobby to apply to get custody of us. So... thank you."

Castiel stomach churns. He doesn't know what to feel - Dean didn't come at first because he _couldn't_ . And then... he just _didn't_.

"Dean won't ever say it, but he... he still thinks about you. He's got your picture stashed away, won't throw it away, won't let anyone touch it."

"He didn't..." _He left me,_ Castiel wants to say. "He didn't come, Sam."

"He-"

"UNca Sam!!"

Emma comes flying over to them, colliding with Sam's legs and wrapping herself around them. Sam breaks off, bending down to pick her up and give her a quick kiss.

"Wassup, M&M?" he asks.

"They're about to start the pajama party!" she claps her hands together. "I want Zom-bee please?"

Castiel freezes. "Zom...bee?" he stutters.

Emma wiggles out of Sam's grasp and slides down to tug at Castiel's pants. He bends down, his heart jackhammering against its ribcage.

"She's my best friend," Emma tells him. "She was Daddy's first, now she's mine. She's a family... family... airloon!"

"Heirloom," Castiel corrects, on autopilot.

Sam pats Emma's head gently to get her attention. "Here you go, M."

"Mista Cas, here, this is Zom-bee!"

The old button eyes have been replaced, the antenna have stitches on them and the nametag he made has become old and frayed, but it is her - she's just as soft and small as she used to be, the perfect size to tuck under his chin.

She smells different, he thinks. There's a rough, musky hint of what he thinks is Dean mixed with the smell of baby powder and general plush-toy. It's both beautiful and heartbreaking and Castiel doesn't know what he wants to do.

"She's..." he breathes in deeply. His hands are shaking so he shoves them into his pockets and offers Emma a small smile. "She's really cute. You're very lucky to have her."

"I am!"

She leans up and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, surprising him. And then, clutching at Zom-bee - _his_ Zom-bee - she runs off into the crowd to join the pajama party happening.

"Sam?"

Dean kept her. Dean kept Zom-bee.

"Yeah, Cas?"

Dean kept Zom-bee and he gave her to his kid. As a family heirloom.

"May I have Dean's number, please?"

"Uh...sure?"

Dean was hurt. Dean couldn't come after him. Dean kept his picture.

"I need to talk to your brother."

Dean cared.

And maybe, Castiel thinks, maybe just he still does.

*-*-*

Walking up to Dean's house with Emma in his arms is the most terrifying thing Castiel has ever done. The little girl is fast asleep, cuddled into his shoulder like she belongs there, and for a moment - just a glorious, foolish moment - Castiel allows himself to wish that she really would.

Because she's clutching his neck as tightly as she is clutching at the plush toy that was once his and Lord knows, he's kept Zom-bee under a strict lock and key in his mind for the past decade.

"Heya Cas."

Dean's waiting for him outside, hands shoved into his pockets, leaning casually against the porch.

"Hello, Dean."

They stand there, frozen, unable to quite say anything. Emma moans a little and then shifts in her sleep. Her grip on Zom-bee loosens and the plushy slips and falls.

Dean leans in to quickly grab it before it hits the dirty ground and Castiel watches as he straightens up, deliberately looking anywhere but Castiel's face.

"Uh, come on in."

"I can take her," Dean offers, but Castiel doesn't respond, following him inside as he turns and leads them inside the house. "Alright, let's get the munchkin into bed.”

“Emma said you were going to 'watch _Die Hard_ in your underwear'.” Castiel manages only a single air quote with his hands full of sleeping kindergartner but Dean still snorts at him anyway.

“I threw on some clothes when Sam called to say you were bringin’ her.”

The trek up the stairs is quiet and Castiel doesn't know how to break it. It's not that there isn't anything to say. There's _too_ much to be said and the silence hangs heavy with the weight of each unsaid thing.

"Set her down here," Dean directs as they move into the bedroom.

Castiel gently bends down and drops her on to the bed. She's not a baby, but he can't help the way his heart swells at how tiny she is, especially lost in the sea of pillows Dean's piled her bed up with.

Emma's face scrunches up and she opens her mouth in her sleep, as though about to cry. Dean quickly bends down and arranges Zom-bee next to her so that she's tucked under her chin. Emma sighs, burying her face into Zom-bee's soft cover and goes back to sleeping soundly.

"You kept her." It's not a question, but Dean nods anyway.

"Guess we're doin' this then." he sounds resigned.

And suddenly, Castiel can't _take_ it anymore, can't take the silence and the not knowing and the abandonment and the trauma of wondering if he'd somehow messed up the one good thing he'd ever had.

"Yes we are," he hisses. "You kept her. You promised, but you didn't come back and you _kept_ her."

"Cas."

Dean's voice is harsh and Castiel glares, about to yell at him, when Dean yanks him out of Emma's room.

"I don't want her waking up," he snaps. "Come with me."

He wants to protest, wants to be fucking angry, _dammit_ , because anger will protect him, anger _has_ protected him all these years. Because he doesn't know if he will be able to forgive Dean even if it wasn't Dean's fault all those years ago.

"I don't-"

Dean pushes him into his bedroom. Despite the rigid set of his shoulders, he's careful to shut the door quietly, and Castiel takes a second to appreciate just how much he loves his little girl.

"Tell me the truth, Dean," he demands. "Why... all these years..."

His eyes fall on the framed photo of the two of them, sitting right there on Dean's nightstand and the fight sails out of him.

He walks closer to the picture, picking it up and running his hands over it. There's a fine layer of dust that sticks to his thumb as he pulls away and he stares back at Dean, frozen.

"Got that out of my trunk when Sammy called tonight to tell me you were comin'," Dean admits. "Been hidin' it away."

"So why pull it out now?" Castiel challenges.

"Because... it's been goin' on long enough, Cas."

"You mean you want to move on. From me."

"Been hung up on you my whole life," Dean says quietly. "And when I saw you at the library that day, I thought... I hoped..." he trails off.

"I waited," Castiel says abruptly. "For three months, I waited."

"I came," Dean answers. "I... came for you. Four months. You'd already vanished."

"I didn't... I had to."

"I know." Dean smiles, a bittersweet curve of his lips that makes Castiel's eyes tear up.

"Why did you keep Zom-bee?"

"Because she meant somethin' to you, man," Dean says, taken aback, like he doesn't know why Castiel would ask this of all things. "And she meant somethin' to me too. And I thought..." he shrugs, "I dunno, guess I thought if I passed her down to my kid, at least Emma'd get all those things you and I didn't."

Maybe if he'd had a mom or a dad give him Zom-bee instead of a scared, teenage brother... maybe if Zom-bee had been a happy gift instead of a forced one, maybe if life hadn't taken away that one little safety he did once have...

Castiel grabs Dean by his shirt and smashes their mouths together, kissing him with every little bit of urgency he feels shake with his hands. Dean _cared_ , Dean _did_ care, Dean came and if Castiel had had a bit more faith back then, if he'd just let himself trust, if only, if only _, if only -_

Dean's mouth opens under his, a sweet surrender, and there's a hint of beer and a hint of coffee and it's perfect and glorious. Castiel wants to drown in him, to never resurface, because it's been ten years, but he’s still here, Zom-bee's still here, and Dean's still here.

And now, there's Emma too. And Sam, and Eileen and Jesse and Charlie and Castiel isn't alone anymore.

"Don't leave," he whispers. "Not again."

"Stay, Cas," Dean whispers back, an echo of the plea he’d made a decade ago. "Stay with me."  

*-*-*

Twenty-seven years Gabriel gifts Zom-bee to him, Castiel realizes that she’s a gift that keeps on giving.

Because on his twenty-ninth birthday, he wakes up to find Emma clambering up on him to place Zom-bee on his chest. Absently, he notes that she’s growing too big for this kind of rough tussling in the bed anymore, wincing when a gangly elbow presses down on his liver.

“Cas!” she exclaims. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you sweetheart.” He helps settle her on his lap, sliding up to sit carefully himself, tucking a long strand of red hair behind her ear. “Did you get up early to use me as your pillow?”

“Do you see something?” Emma asks, ignoring his question. “Do you, do you, do you?”

She’s bouncing out of her skin, he notes in surprise. “I see my favorite redheaded mermaid in front of me,” he teases. “Am I missing something?”

“On Zom-bee, Cas!”

She thrusts the plushy into his face. Castiel pulls back just in time to avoid getting his eye poked by the antennae and the sharp something on it -

He freezes.

“Is that…” he breathes.

“Daddy said to give you this,” Emma says. “Will you be my Papa for real now?”

The ring is not very big, just a tiny little silver band that hangs off of Zom-bee’s antennae. It’s old and worn, like Zom-bee herself is, and Castiel knows without being told that the ring belongs to Dean’s mother, the last reminder he has of her, that he’s been carrying around for all these years. It’s not fancy or engraved and Dean probably just pulled it out of an old box in the attic where he’s been keeping it stashed.

But for Castiel who has never known any stability of any kind, the ring is a memory, a reminder that this is a life that he’s not just existing in anymore, that it’s something he’s building. He grabs Zom-bee with hands that are twice the size they were when he first hugged her like this as a child, and then tucks her under his chin. But Zom-bee isn’t alone anymore - Emma goes with her, also tucking her head under his chin, sniffling into his shirt.

“What do you say, babe?”

Castiel looks up to see his partner standing in the doorway, fists shoved into his jeans exactly like that fifteen year old boy he fell in love with and never moved on from.

“Beeeee mine?” Dean smirks.

Emma laughs into Castiel’s chest and he can feel her heartbeat against his own, both of their hands intertwined over Zom-bee’s little head.

“I already am.”

**-end-**


End file.
